


An Ode

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek the Designated Driver, Drinking, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 23:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16983978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: “Did I ever tell you how nice your arms are?” Stiles asks, slurring just a little.(A fic where Derek is always willing to take care of drunk Stiles)





	An Ode

**Author's Note:**

> I intended this to be a silly fic, but I accidentally got some feels in there, whoops. This is a future fic where nobody died. Stiles is drinking legally.

 

 

Though he sometimes pretends he’s annoyed by it, Derek doesn’t mind being called. Even if it’s four in the morning, because he doesn’t want anyone drunk and stranded, surrounded by strangers.

But it seems like he’s mostly called _for_ Stiles, specifically. Everyone else apparently makes plans and arranges for someone sober to drive them home, or maybe they just take the bus, but not Stiles. Stiles always thinks he’ll be able to handle the alcohol, and he most assuredly _cannot_.

This time, it’s Lydia who makes the call. “Derek, you need to come and get him,” she says, slurring slightly but still clearly in command. “He almost fell down the stairs,” she adds, and Derek winces. Stiles’ innate clumsiness only gets worse when he’s drunk. “I think he’s trying to sleep in a tire swing now.”

Derek rolls his eyes, but he’s glad it’s a warm night, because he doesn’t have to worry about Stiles freezing to death in someone’s backyard. “Send me the address,” he says to Lydia. “And I’ll be on my way.”

 

*

 

When Derek pulls up to the curb, it’s apparent the party is still in full swing. There are a few people dancing drunkenly on the lawn, and the smell of alcohol is overwhelming, even from where Derek is standing.

He’s nearly to the front door when he spots Danny, who smiles and waves. He still seems pretty sober.

“Hey, Derek. You here for Stiles?”

He just gives a little nod, because Danny already knows the answer.

“Yeah, I was trying to save you the trouble of coming out here in the middle of the night, and offered to be designated driver for him. Wasn’t feeling like drinking much, anyway. But he turned me down,” Danny says, shrugging.

Derek raises an eyebrow at that, but declines to comment. He’ll ask Stiles about that later. “Have you seen him?”

Danny tips his head back, thoughtful. “Last I saw him, he was on the back porch steps.”

“Thanks,” Derek says.

He weaves his way through drunken crowds of people, wincing a little at the yelling and the loud, thumping music in the background. When he finally swings the back door open, Stiles is still there on the steps, but he’s not drinking anymore.

He looks like he’s falling asleep.

“Hey,” he says, lightly touching Stiles’ shoulder. “You ready to go home?”

It takes a moment for Stiles to rouse, and he blinks lazily at Derek for a moment before his brain catches up. “Deeeerreeeek,” he says happily, beaming.

Despite the number of times he’s seen it, that smile still makes his stomach swoop. “Hi, Stiles. Do you want me to carry you?”

Derek has discovered that, when Stiles has been drinking, he absolutely loves to be picked up and held. He’s a surprisingly cuddly drunk.

“Mmm,” Stiles says, eagerly throwing his arm over Derek’s shoulders the moment he crouches down.

Derek lifts him easily, rolling his eyes when Stiles happily pats his chest. When they’re back inside the house, the noise has Stiles trying to burrow his face into Derek’s neck, but he relaxes again when they get out to the front yard.

The hand on Derek’s chest shifts over and lands on Derek’s flexed bicep, which Stiles gently squeezes before tracing his fingers along all of Derek’s arm that he can reach.

“Did I ever tell you how nice your arms are?” Stiles asks, slurring just a little. “Like, I mean, _all of you_ is nice, but. Your arms. I just want to be in…” he trails off into undecipherable mumbling. Then he tips his head up to look at Derek, and his hand lands haphazardly on Derek’s jaw. “And you’re just so great, and. Not _just_ handsome,” he says, obviously trying to be serious.

Derek has to fight hard to keep from smiling, because he knows it’ll only encourage Stiles. “We’re at the car,” he says. “I need you to stand for a minute so I can unlock the door.”

Stiles grumbles about it, but he does stand, though he leans heavily against Derek the whole time.

Derek buckles Stiles in, and has only just gotten himself settled behind the wheel when Stiles turns to him and says, brightly, “Have I ever told you how amazing your arms are?”

“Yes, you have,” Derek says firmly as he starts the car, hoping it will keep Stiles from waxing poetic about them. Again.

It doesn’t.

 

*

 

He briefly considers taking Stiles to his own apartment—Stiles had given him a key several months ago, saying _just in case_ , though in case of what Derek wasn’t sure—but Stiles loves the loft and spends most of his time there, so. That’s where Derek takes them.

He scoops Stiles up into his arms again once they’ve arrived, because he’s tried convincing a drunk Stiles to climb the stairs before, and it’s just not worth the effort. Especially when Derek doesn’t actually _mind_ carrying him, as put upon as he may act.

He runs through the usual checklist: “Do you feel like you’re going to throw up? Do you need to go to the bathroom? Do you want to brush your teeth?”

Once everything is taken care of, and once Stiles has, yet again, convinced Derek to lend him a pair of pajama pants, there is nothing left to do except cover Stiles with a blanket and let him sleep it off.

He leaves Stiles on the couch, and heads upstairs to get a little sleep himself. He keeps his hearing tuned to Stiles’ heartbeat, though. Just in case.

 

*

 

Derek is sitting on the coffee table in front of Stiles’ couch-nest when he wakes up. He waits as Stiles blinks sleepily at him, lets him get oriented to where he is, then hands him a glass of water.

Stiles takes a few sips, clearly gathering his thoughts. Usually he says something like _well, that was an awesome night_ or _maybe I had a little too much_ , or even _thanks for picking me up_. So, he’s really surprised when Stiles says, “I should apologize. I’m sorry I keep doing this, Derek. It’s only when I’m drunk that I’m brave enough to do what I want, to say what I—what _did_ I say to you last night?” he asks, abruptly derailing himself.

“The usual kind of things,” Derek says, shrugging. “You tried to write an ode to my arms. I’m told it was very moving.”

As he’d hoped, that makes Stiles smile, but his expression drops back to serious rather quickly.

“That’s what I’m talking about, though,” Stiles says, rubbing irritably at his jaw. “I get drunk and dump all my feelings on you, tell you everything I’ve always wanted to say. And that’s not fair to you, when you’re obviously not interested.”

“Not—Stiles, I _am_ interested,” Derek says, feeling his heart rate pick up to match Stiles’. “Just. Not in something casual.” If he’s going to take the risks a relationship entails—especially for _him_ —then he wants it to matter.

Stiles looks entirely shocked, then rallies, saying suddenly, “Didn’t I call you beautiful last night?”

He had. He’d looked up at Derek standing under the harsh light of a streetlamp and said, _you’re so beautiful, Derek_.

“And didn’t I say you were amazing, and wonderful? And _more than_ just handsome? Derek, I’m so far from casual it’s embarrassing,” Stiles says, almost pleading. “I understand if you want to take it slow, or if you’re not sure about me, but I just want to take you on dates and—”

Derek doesn’t find out how that sentence ends, because he’s too busy pressing his lips to Stiles’. It’s the best answer he can give.

And really, it doesn’t matter what Stiles was going to say. Derek trusts him.  

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/). (I am now also on pillowfort!)


End file.
